Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 32

32

Liam’s POV

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The morning was still gray when I opened my eyes. Sunlight hadn’t fully broken through the curtains yet, but the sound of last night’s rain had been replaced by a silence that felt oddly irritating. Beside me, Emily was still asleep, tucked under the blanket up to her chin. Her face looked tired-probably from smiling and talking too much at the gala last night. I gave her a brief glance, then got out of bed. I needed coffee.

My feet led me out of the bedroom. The house was still quiet. But something lingered in the air.

When I reached the dining room, my steps came to a sudden stop.

The table was still full. Decorative candles had burned out. Serving plates were covered with domes. An array of

dishes awaited-meant for last night’s dinner. My favorite roast. Sienna’s creamy soup that only appeared on

special occasions. Fresh salad with her homemade dressing. Even a chocolate cake that looked untouched.

I swallowed hard. There was a strange weight in my chest-an emptiness too wide to name.

I slowly approached the table. I tilted my head, trying to recall-who was the last to stand here? Who last laughed, or raised a glass, or simply spoke? But no memories came. Only vague shadows of a plan that never

happened.

I let out a long breath. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor as I pulled it out seemed louder than it

should’ve been.

Sienna was so stubborn. She knew we had a packed schedule, yet she still insisted on that dinner. What for?

I stared at the table with a frustration that was hard to put into words. She never knew her place anymore-

never realized she wasn’t that important. But that’s Sienna. Always quiet. Always keeping everything to herself,

then expecting the rest of us to guess what’s in her heart.

I didn’t end up making coffee. My stomach turned just looking at all that food. Not from hunger-but from a

wave of guilt. Or maybe just the way she always made me feel guilty without saying a word.

I walked into the hallway. My steps were slow, but they had a clear direction. Toward a room I had never really paid attention to. Sienna’s room. I stood before the door for a few seconds, then knocked three times. Soft, but

loud enough to be heard.

No answer.

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I waited a moment, then knocked again. “Sienna?”

Still nothing. No footsteps, no creak of the bed, no sound at all from inside.

I let out a slow breath. Maybe she went to the market. She did that sometimes-getting up ridiculously early just to prepare something special for breakfast. Always keeping busy in the mornings. But for who? Me? Noah?

I touched the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. I don’t know why-it just felt strange to go in. I’d always just stood

here like this, just outside, never actually opening that door.

So I turned away. My steps moved away from the room, like always-as if there was nothing important behind

1. After all, if she had gone to the market, she’d be back soon. Wouldn’t she?

But for some reason, this morning felt different. The silence was sharper. The dining table too full. And her

room-too quiet.

Still, I chose to ignore it. Like I always did.

Tiny footsteps echoed from upstairs. I turned my head. Noah was coming down the stairs, his hair messy, eyes

still half-lidded, but his pace quickened as he clutched a robot in his hand.

“Daddy! Look, I got another robot, this one’s red!!” he exclaimed, holding it out proudly.

“That’s nice, Noah,” I said quietly.

His face lit up. “It’s from Auntie Emily, right? I wanted the red one but it was sold out.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure how to respond. My eyes were on the robot. Emily never mentioned finding

the red one. And yet-there it was.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “Maybe Auntie Emily bought it for you.” I said it, even though I wasn’t sure. Last night,

I thought maybe Sienna had gotten it. But what Noah said… made sense too.

“I’m hungry,” his small voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned and saw Noah standing near the dining table, his gaze locked onto something.

“That’s my favorite cake,” he said eagerly, pointing. “Can I have some, Daddy?”

I nodded slowly. There was too much swirling in my head to say no to something so simple,

“There’s no breakfast yet. Go ahead and have a slice,” I replied.

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“I want the middle part-the one with the chocolate chunks!” he said excitedly, climbing onto a chair and picking up a small plastic knife that, oddly, was already set there, as if waiting for him.

I just watched him. He looked happy. Innocent. Like everything was fine. But maybe that’s exactly what made

me uneasy.

Footsteps came from the staircase. Emily appeared, her hair tied up hastily, still in her satin nightdress. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, took a sip, then finally noticed the table-still full.

“Why hasn’t this been cleaned up?” she muttered, half-questioning, half-complaining. Her eyes scanned the dishes, the burnt-out candles, the lace tablecloth now slightly rumpled from Noah’s small hands as he enjoyed

his cake.

“No breakfast?” she asked, closing the fridge door a bit too hard.

I took a slow breath before answering, “The maid went home yesterday morning. Said someone in her family

was sick.”

Emily nodded, but her face still held a trace of annoyance. “And Sienna? Where is she?”

“Maybe the market,” I said flatly, trying to sound convincing. “If she’s not in her room, that’s usually where

she is.”

Emily didn’t reply. She just glanced at me briefly, then back at the table-this time with a faint look of confusion. Maybe she was starting to notice how excessive all that food really was. But I stayed quiet.

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